Moonspear You can't fix it

Tiuttuk flinched inwardly at Tikaani’s next choice of words. They served as a stark reminder of what had happened to them, why her half-sister felt such anger despite her typically even temper. Pie couldn’t help but wonder if Tiki made any exceptions for Sialuk, or if her mother’s absence fueled this outrage in part. She didn’t ask.

She reached for her friend again, a foreleg draping over Tiki’s nearer shoulder before sliding loosely around her neck. Pie pulled her to her chest, nuzzling the side of her face, trying to soothe the hurts inside the other girl.

For whatever it’s worth, she breathed into Tikaani’s ear, I would sooner die than leave you, or this mountain.

She gave her sibling a squeeze, then drew away. Pie cleared her throat, took a breath, and swung her tail slowly from side to side.

Let’s find somewhere to put this for now, she said, toeing the discarded rabbit, and then find a spring, drink as much as possible, then head to the borders. So we can let the whole world know we’re not going anywhere. We’re here to stay.